


Long Time Coming

by fleabit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Rating subject to change, Sibling Incest, age gap, will add more tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:25:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleabit/pseuds/fleabit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Frankly, you’re a bit anxious about how this whole thing will play out. Will you be able to jump right back into your brotherly teasing and fighting? Or will Dave be cold and distant towards you? Will he warm up to you at all?"</p><p>It's been eight long years since Bro last saw his little brother, but all of that changes when Dave contacts him with a simple request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bro: Get an Email

**Author's Note:**

> multichapter fic? haha what??

The alarm clock on your phone goes off for the third time at 10:30 am before you silence it again. It takes you an extra fifteen minutes to fully awaken and finally drag yourself out of bed to get your day started. 

You’re not usually one to be up this early on a Saturday, but there are some business-related things you need to take care of that you had been procrastinating on all week. After taking your morning piss/shower and making yourself a cup of coffee, you sit down at your desktop computer and boot it up. 

Checking your email for any new orders is your first task of the day. You find that you have several new orders since you last checked. You file them away to look at after you deal with older orders before checking your spam (just to make sure nothing got mixed up). Nothing appears to be of importance. You’re about to click “Move to Trash” when one email catches your eye. 

Dave Strider (no subject) 12:03 am

An email from… Dave? How’d he manage to find your email address?

You’re quick to open the message and read it.

from: Dave Strider  
to: me

hey bro

this is dave as you probably guessed

i didnt really know what to put as the subject since i feel kinda weird asking you about this out of the blue

im starting high school in september and theres this arts and sciences magnet school that i really want to go to

the thing is that its in downtown houston which is a lot closer to where youre living right now, so i was wondering if youd be chill with letting me stay at your place if i get accepted

let me know soon if youre up for it

your bro,  
dave

ps  
if you use pesterchum my chumhandle is turntechGodhead

You lean back into your office chair, gently scratching the stubble on your face in contemplation (you should probably shave soon). You haven’t spoken to Dave much since you moved away from your parent’s house for college, which was almost eight years ago. You’re sure he’s changed a lot since then, so you know it’ll feel strange having him around at first, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t let him live in your flat for a while. He’s your brother after all. Not to mention, you feel pretty guilty about not regularly communicating with your family once you left home, Dave especially. He practically idolized you, so you really let him down when you didn’t make the effort to keep in touch. Dave would always be the one to call you, and over the years he started calling less and less until he stopped trying at all several years ago. But the fact that he’s contacting you now is a good sign, and you take it as a chance to rebuild your relationship with him.

You don’t hesitate in writing up a reply.

Hey dude,

I’m honored that you’ve chosen my pad as the prime base of operations for the duration of your high school education. You’re welcome to come anytime and stay as long as you need to.

We can keep in touch over Pesterchum since it’s faster. My chumhandle is timaeusTestified. Make sure to add me back so we can talk.

Bro

The first thing you do after you hit “send” is open up Pesterchum and type his chumhandle in the search bar for adding new contacts. His handle appears and you click “send friend request” next to it. Once that’s over with, you take a moment to think about all the catching up you two will do. You don’t know much about what’s going on in his life right now and you find yourself eager to learn about it. For now, though, you’ve done what you can, so you wait.

**********

Dave added you on Pesterchum the day you replied to his email, and you’ve spent the past few weeks chatting up a storm and making plans for him moving in. You learned that he was able to find your email address through your old robotics website which you haven’t updated in years (it’s actually an old email you never use anymore, but you have it set up so that any mail sent to that address is forwarded to the spam of your current email). Dave told you that his main interest is photography, but he also likes anatomy (as you’ve seen through his weird collection of preserved dead things. You suppose you’re not one to talk though). You’ve been helping Dave set up his portfolio to apply for the magnet school, and you’re surprised to find that his photography skills are actually pretty decent. Dave remembered your interest in robotics, since you were on the robotics team in high school and ended up getting a full ride scholarship to study engineering at a university. You tell him that you dropped out during your fourth year because you realized that you would rather pursue robotics as a hobby than a career, and that you’re making your living as a DJ now. You don’t feel ready to tell him about your actual main source of income, and you feel that you may never be ready.

One day, Dave messages you excitedly on Pesterchum with good news.

— turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 14:18 —

TG: hey bro  
TG: are you there  
TG: shit man dont leave me hanging  
TG: i s2g if youre not on pesterchum in the next .5 seconds im  
TT: What’s up?  
TG: oh hey  
TT: Seems like you were chomping at the bit to tell me something. What is it?  
TG: yeah  
TG: so you know how i sent in my application for the magnet school a few weeks ago  
TT: Yeah. How’s that going?  
TG: well i just got a letter in the mail today  
TT: And?  
TG: i got accepted  
TT: Congrats, dude, that’s great. I knew you’d get in.  
TG: thanks  
TG: well thats only part of the reason why i wanted to talk to you  
TT: Oh?  
TG: now that im for sure going to this magnet school i was wondering if i could move in like  
TG: sometime next week  
TG: is that ok  
TT: If you’re fine with spending half of your summer vacation down here, sure. I have no objections.  
TG: sweet  
TG: ill get my shit packed so i can drop by asap  
TT: Alright. Let me know which day you plan on coming so I can clean and shit.  
TG: pffft  
TG: as if  
TG: ok catch you on the flip side  
TT: Right back at ya.

— turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 14:23 —

Frankly, you’re a bit anxious about how this whole thing will play out. Will you be able to jump right back into your brotherly teasing and fighting? Or will Dave be cold and distant towards you? Will he warm up to you at all?

You tell yourself to stop thinking like that. You keep having to remind yourself that Dave is your little brother, and he’s always looked up to you. You don’t know him that well now, sure, but once you’re living together you’ll be able to form new memories to bond over. And your interests are actually quite similar. What could go wrong?

Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel slightly on edge when the day comes where Dave is supposed to move in. He insisted on traveling to Houston by train, supposedly because he felt weird about having your parents there when you to would finally meet for the first time in years. You’re sort of relieved because you would have felt the same.

You’re standing outside by the platform, anxiously waiting for his train to arrive. Several have come and gone while you were here but none of them were Dave’s. Even under the cover of shade, the summer heat is blistering, and you hope that Dave’s train comes soon because like hell are you gonna greet your bro while wearing a sweat-drenched polo. You imagine him running into your arms once he sees you and letting you swing him around in a tight bear hug, only to be grossed out by how smelly you are. You chuckle, but then you remember that Dave isn’t a little kid anymore so that kind of thing probably wouldn’t be appropriate at his age.

You’re wiping your hands on your jeans for the fifth time when you hear the blaring horn of a train approaching the station. You look up and check the number on the train. 935; yep, that’s Dave’s train. You suddenly feel your chest tighten because in about a minute you’ll be seeing your brother again after what seems like forever.

The train pulls to a stop and you feel restless, glancing at each individual as they step onto the platform. One by one, each person leaves. The anticipation in your chest grows stronger with each passing moment, and you have to remind yourself to breathe, otherwise you’re sure you’ll pass out from holding your breath.

That plan immediately flies out the window when you see him, because holy shit, your brother has changed a lot. When did Dave get so tall? He nearly rivals you in height now, and his lanky figure accentuates his beanpole look. You can see the beginning traces of acne on his face, but considering his age, his complexion is actually pretty good. You’re a bit saddened to see that Dave no longer wears the nearly-identical pointy shades that you gave him on his 5th birthday (much to your parent’s dismay), but instead sports a rather expensive looking pair of gold-rimmed aviators. The only thing that doesn’t seem to have changed about his overall look is his hairstyle, which is still the same boyish cut you remember him having ages ago.

Dave takes in his surroundings before his eyes quickly fall on you, and he immediately makes his way in your direction. Even with two large suitcases and a backpack in tow, Dave has evidently mastered the art of the swagger during your absence. You fight the urge to shed a tear, and manage to put a cap on your emotions before they overflow.

Damn, even Dave’s poker face is on point. He seems even more calm and collected than you right now. Gotta give him kudos for that.

“Sup?” Dave snaps you out of your stupor with a simple greeting. You don’t think he noticed though, or at least you hope he didn’t.

“Sup kid,” you return, offering him a subtle nod. You reach to take one of his suitcases, and he shifts his arm away from you and shakes his head.

“S’ok, I got it,” Dave says. You watch curiously as he glances around, probably looking for whatever looks like your car, not that he’s ever seen it. Despite his poker face, Dave’s fatigue is pretty evident, at least to your trained eye. He may have taught himself not to show emotion through his face, but his body language could use some work. 

“Ready to go?” You ask, not really knowing what else to say.

“Yeah,” he says, shifting his grip on his luggage once again. Not wanting to stall the process any further, you pull your keys out and make your way to your car. 

You unlock the trunk and let Dave put his suitcases back there. He seems to insist on keeping his backpack with him for the duration of the trip. You take your seat in front of the wheel, and Dave follows suit, sitting gunshot beside you.

“Nice ride,” he comments, looking around the interior of the car. 

“Thanks.” It actually wasn’t anything special, just an SUV that you bought at a used lot. You’d drive something more economic if you could, but you need a larger car to transport your DJ gear in. Still, it’s a decent vehicle for what it’s worth.

Dave is looking down at his hands, interlocked and wrapped tightly around his backpack, which you notice is crammed full of so much stuff that he couldn’t even get the zippers to touch. He kicks his feet lightly at the upholstery as you drive in silence. You want to say something, and you can sense that he does too, but neither of you make a move to break the ice. You’ve barely said a word to him and you don’t want to feel like you’re already at an impasse, so you finally give under the tension and ask the first question that comes to mind.

“So, how are Mom and Dad doing?” You immediately regret asking that question, knowing that it won’t help make things any more comfortable for the two of you.

“Good. Just their usual selves, I guess. Mom keeps saying she misses you, though.” You can’t help but wince a bit. You should probably stop beating around the bush and just call them. You don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it in the first place.  
“Hm.” You change of subject. “So where’d you get those shades?”

“What? Oh,” Dave fiddles with the temples of his shades, a nervous tick that you would come to know very well. “My friend John mailed these to me about a year ago for my birthday.”

“Pretty sweet. I’m a little jealous.” 

Dave shakes his head. “Nah. I still think yours look cool on you.” In retrospect, Dave’s new aviators complement his rounded face better. He’s probably a chick magnet at school. You’ll have to ask him about that later.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say, “Plus they’re good for intimidating the weak-willed.” This gets a small laugh out of Dave (or a snort, but hey, any sort of reaction counts right?) and you feel slightly more at ease. 

“Did you know that these shades were Ben Stiller’s when he was in Starsky and Hutch?”

“Dude, get out.”

“No, legit. I got the certificate of authenticity and everything. Legal documents flying out the wazoo. Get that shit appraised on Pawn Stars and they’d be like, ‘Well I’ll be damned as Hitler in the deepest infernos of Hell, this guy ain’t playin’.’ They’d even get Ben Stiller himself to make a guest appearance just to look at this tacky pair of sunglasses that he wore ten years ago. I’m telling you, this is the real deal.”

“Okay, holy shit, I get it.” You’re trying to act annoyed, but in reality your mind is doing acrobatic pirouettes because you feel like you’re already getting somewhere with your little brother. It’ll take a while to get fully accustomed to each other again, but if you can keep this progress up then you’re sure things will be back the way they used to be in no time. 

“Your friend John must be a real keeper if he put that much effort into your birthday present.” You lean over to Dave, waggling your eyebrows at him. “Ooh, what if he likes you--“

“Oh my God, Bro! Gross!” Dave groans loudly, shoving you away with one hand while he uses the other to cover his face in embarrassment. You can’t help but laugh, bringing your attention back to the road. You’re left with a genuine smile on your face for the rest of the ride, and the occasional sideways peek over at Dave confirms that he does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you read this far, thank you! you are amazing. I hope you look forward to chapter 2!
> 
> just a heads up though, I might be fairly busy with school work for the next week or so, so your patience would be appreciated!


	2. Dave: Settle In.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO... SO ITS BEEN LIKE. OVER A YEAR SINCE I UPDATED THIS. Please forgive me. Here is chapter 2. Sorry it's kinda short! But I'm excited about writing this again.

After dragging your luggage up fifteen flights of stairs, you deeply regret refusing your brother’s help. What’s worse than the searing pain in your legs and the way you’re gasping for breath is the fact that, once you finally catch up to him at the top of the stairwell, Bro is snickering at you. Your original intent was to seem strong and independent, and your plan horribly backfired. You’ve never felt so humiliated in your life.

“You shoulda let me help you, bro,” Bro says between snorts of laughter. He’s not even trying to hold back now; he probably considered it a lost cause a long time ago. You can feel your ears burning from embarrassment.

“You shoulda given me a fucking warning, like hell was I expecting to have to walk up goddamn Empire State Building,” you pant in retaliation. Bro just laughs again and grabs both of your suitcases, and this time you let him. You watch as he drags them down the narrow carpeted hallway, convincing yourself that you’re just taking a moment to catch your breath and totally not checking out your older brother. Damn, you don’t remember Bro being so... toned. His tight-fitting polo stretches along his shoulder blades, pleasantly accentuating them, and you follow the curve of his spine down to his...

Okay, not going there. You are now boarding the plane to Fuckthatville, in the country of Nevermind, scheduled to arrive at nope o’clock.

Bro stops in front of what you assume is the front door to his flat. You feel like a newborn fawn as you stand on shaky legs, wincing at the pain. Your brother unlocks the door and holds it open for you, bowing graciously for your entrance. “Your castle awaits, princess.”

You’re rather tempted to give him a friendly kick in the groin as you enter, but you’re able to restrain yourself. Barely. 

Your eyes widen as you take in the scene in front of you. Bro’s flat is fucking trashed. You were right when you assumed he wouldn’t lift a single finger to tidy up the place. Takeout boxes litter the small kitchen island, and the bag in the trash can is tied up and ready to be tossed but has probably been sitting there for a few days. Soda cans and empty bags of Doritos cover the futon and coffee table, and it looks like Bro paused Tony Hawk Pro Skater 3 in the middle of playing to pick you up. The only area of the apartment that appears to be spotless is Bro’s work desk, which has neatly organized folders and binders in the shelving unit above it. Bro’s screensaver appears to be a slideshow of puppets, ranging from recognizable faces like Kermit the Frog to rather terrifying but well-crafted bunraku puppets.

Which brings you to the next point of interest in the apartment, which is the decor itself. There are puppets seemingly everywhere. You can count at least fourteen different puppets of various shapes and sizes without moving from your spot in the doorway. There are marionettes hanging from the cabinets in the kitchen, piles of foam puppets scattered about the living room, and even a few shoved behind the flat screen TV. Oh, and there’s Lil’ Cal. Sitting on the speaker in the corner. Just staring at you, glassy-eyed yet somehow emanating consciousness. A small shiver runs down your spine. You remember Cal from your youth, and you didn’t know how uneasy he made you feel until Bro moved out and brought Cal with him. You can’t say you missed him, but you’ll have to get used to being around him again.

You blink for a moment, and when you open your eyes again Cal is right there, mere inches from your face, smiling menacingly.

“Hi Dave! It’s nice to see you!” Cal (Bro) exclaimed in that high-pitched tone you remember all too well.

You scream and punch the imposing puppet right out of Bro’s hand, sending it flying across the room before hitting a wall and falling limply to the ground.

“Well, that’s not a very nice way to treat your host,” Bro quips. You spin around to face him, giving him the most deathly glare you can manage, and he seems to get the hint pretty quickly. He lifts his hands in a gesture of peace. “Okay, no more tormenting you with Lil’ Cal. It was more fun when you were younger anyway.” Pleased with his answer, you walk into the apartment, allowing Bro to follow you in before shutting the door with his foot. 

“Sorry I didn’t really clean up. Hopefully you weren’t really expecting anything better than this, though.” Bro says apologetically.

“Nah, s’fine. Hell, I’m a slob myself. I don’t give a shit,” you respond. Bro makes what you assume is a grunt of approval.

“Cool. So you wanna see your room?”

“Sure,” you reply. You feel nervous and excited at the same time, wondering what your new room would be like. When Bro first offered to clear out his room for you, you told him not to bother, that you would be perfectly fine sleeping on the futon. You didn’t have much room to protest when he said that he actually preferred sleeping on the futon, and that he crashed there most mornings after his late night gigs. (“Besides,” he said in a mock fatherly tone, “A young man needs his privacy and like Hell am I gonna deprive you of that.”) So that was that.

You didn’t know what to expect when you walked in, but you were relieved that Bro had at least cleaned all of his shit out of this room, save for the bare necessities. The room itself wasn’t all that big, probably only twelve feet by twelve feet. On the west-facing wall was a small square window with a view of the city below. On the wall opposite of the window was a small closet, which after checking it, had been all but emptied, with half a dozen clothes hangers still in there. There was a makeshift “desk” on the north-facing wall, being nothing more than a slab of wood stacked on top of some cinder blocks. In the southwest corner of the room, a bare spring mattress with a blanket and pillow was shoved haphazardly against the wall.

“I know it’s not much,” Bro said meekly, scratching the back of his neck. “Figured you’d wanna decorate it yourself, make it your own space. Maybe this weekend we can head down to the thrift store or Ikea and get you some actual furniture.”

“You kidding? This is awesome, I love it. I feel like the king of Houston. I have all-seeing reign over my domain from here. No peasant shall escape my wrath.” You face him again, and you can see the relief wash over his face as a smile spreads across his lips. You return it with a small smile of your own.

“That’s cool and all, but remember that you’re the princess, not the king. If anyone’s the king it’s me. I work my peons to their dying breath. They’re practically my slaves.”

“No way, dude. I’m not a fucking princess. Can’t I at least be a prince? An archduke? An earl?”

Bro shakes his head. “Nope. Those are titles you gotta earn. Until then, you’re a princess. Besides, Lil’ Cal is the Archduke.”

You huff in annoyance. “Who says you had to earn your title?”

“My loyal subjects appointed me. It was a unanimous vote.”

“Who, your puppets? That’s not how being a king works.”

"My kingdom, my rules. Get used to it, little dude.” Bro tosses your suitcases into the room. “Anyway, lemme know what you want for dinner tonight. It’s your first night here, so I’ll let you pick. But I’ve got a gig tonight, so make your decision soon.”

“’Kay.”

With that, he leaves you to your own devices. Only now do you realize that your face is burning hot, and it’s probably red. You hope Bro didn’t notice.


End file.
